


Masquerade

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just want to see what it’s like to be completely anonymous, if only for a few hours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XV, using the prompt 'future'.

 

It takes ten years to convince them to finally return to the Capitol. Surprisingly, it’s Katniss who suggests it.  
  
“We’ve laid low for long enough,” she says with a shrug. “No one outside of District Twelve aside from our friends has seen us. Plutarch saw to that.”  
  
Peeta huffs, because as reluctant as he is to admit it, the former Gamemaker had been instrumental in keeping the media attention well and truly away from all of the victors. While they’ve occasionally given telephone interviews for newspapers, their faces haven’t been seen by the wider public since the war. “It would only take one person to recognize us. They’d be chasing us like mutts after that, probably all the way back here to Twelve.”  
  
“Then we’ll just have to be careful,” she replies, and he knows that he’s lost the argument just from her tone. Because twelve years in her company is plenty of time to discover how stubborn she can be once she sets her mind on something.   
  
“I want to see the memorials Gale told us about,” she adds softly – and he really can’t say no to that.  
  
He enlists Effie’s help, and before he truly has time to think about the consequences, they’re both on a train to the Capitol for the first time since the Quarter Quell.   
  
“At least we’re not being sent to our deaths this time,” he jokes as they pull away from the station. Katniss merely glares, and he resists the temptation to point out that this was her idea.  
  
*  
  
Effie has visited Twelve frequently enough for them to recognize her easily when they arrive, despite the dark but simple wig that adorns her head.   
  
“I didn’t want to take any chances, “ she says by way of explanation, before reaching into her large bag and taking out hats and long coats for them to wear. Effie doesn’t miss the look that they exchange. “It’s just a precaution. Everything will be fine,” she adds with a reassuring smile that’s enough for Katniss to loosen her grip on his hand by a fraction.   
  
When they arrive at Effie’s apartment unscathed, they all breathe a little easier. Katniss finds the flyer on the coffee table soon after he drops their bags off in the room that has been readied for them.  
  
She hands it over to him silently.   
  
_Remembrance Day Masquerade Ball. All proceeds go to accredited charities._  
  
Before he can say anything, Effie returns from the kitchen with a tray full of drinks. “Oh, that was my idea,” she says with pride when she notices the flyer in his hand. “It’s our fifth year, and more popular than ever. That’s why I said that you would have the place to yourselves tomorrow night.”  
  
“What are charities?” Katniss asks her before he gets the chance to.  
  
“They help people who need it.” Effie hands them both glasses before taking her own and sitting in the armchair across from them. “The government does what it can, but there are shortfalls, even now. The charities provide food or clothing or even shelter if it’s needed. It was Johanna Mason’s idea originally, did you know that?”  
  
They both shake their heads. She’s never mentioned it to them.  
  
“After the war, she went back to Seven and tried to help where she could, but was worried about what would happen after she left and took up the position that President Paylor offered her. So she agreed to send money to someone she trusted in the District so that they could continue providing on her behalf. After Plutarch heard about it, he commissioned a show, following the money trail as it were, and the idea really took off.”   
  
“We don’t have anything like that in Twelve,” he observes.  
  
“Well, you don’t need it,” Effie responds as if it’s obvious. “District Twelve had to start again from scratch, and from the beginning, those who had more were happy to give to those who had less. I remember you baking bread for the entire population during that first year, Peeta. And Katniss providing meat and fish for them all.”  
  
Considering Twelve’s population didn’t make it into three figures until well into the second year after the war, it hadn’t been all that difficult. But he gets her point.  
  
“In the other Districts, the disparity in wealth is worse. There are many more opportunities for people now, but those who don’t or can’t get them sometimes need a helping hand. A place to stay for a night, or some warm clothes to wear in winter. A loaf of bread,” she adds with a pointed look at the both of them.  
  
“How do you know so much about what happens in the Districts, Effie?”  
  
She looks at Katniss with surprise. “TV, of course. Don’t you watch yours?”  
  
They both shake their heads – that thing hasn’t been switched on since the Quarter Quell.  
  
*  
  
“You want to go, don’t you?” he asks her as they get ready for bed.  
  
Katniss climbs under the cover before she answers. “Effie would help us buy tickets and costumes if we asked.”  
  
“Doesn’t it remind you of…” _The Capitol, the Games, the Presidential Mansion, the circus in which we were the central attraction._ Any number of things, really.  
  
“A little,” she admits, knowing what he’s thinking. “But if Effie’s right about these charities, then maybe things really have changed.”  
  
He switches off the light and joins her, wrapping his arms around her slender body as she curls into him.   
  
“No one will know we’re there except for Effie,” she says against his neck. “And we can leave if things get out of hand or if we’re not enjoying it. I just want to see what it’s like to be completely anonymous, if only for a few hours.”  
  
“Okay,” he agrees a moment later, kissing her forehead as he shuts his eyes. “We’ll talk to Effie in the morning.”  
  
*  
  
Effie takes the news as well as he expects, clucking around them for the rest of the morning like Haymitch’s mother goose.   
  
By midday, she has four costumes delivered, glancing at him sheepishly as he caresses the material of the one that she has thrust into his hands.  
  
“That one is for my date,” she answers when he glances at the second masculine suit.  
  
 _Oh_.  
  
“He’ll be meeting us here and taking you to the ballroom. Katniss and I will follow shortly after.”  
  
“Can’t we all go together?” _Because the last time Katniss and I were separated, things didn’t go so well_ , he thinks.  
  
Effie shakes her head. “Transport will be difficult to get hold of tonight. Our best chance is to go in pairs in a small vehicle with the same driver. He will drop the two of you off first, then return for the two of us.”  
  
“Are you sure that’s safe?”  
  
She reaches for him, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “I promised I would take care of you, and I will. The driver is someone that I trust, as is my date. You will both be just fine.”  
  
 _Okay_. He nods his assent.  
  
He watches as the excitement in his Katniss’s demeanor increases throughout the day, suppressing his own apprehension. When she smiles widely and kisses him soundly at the dinner table, he moans his surprise into her mouth. He doesn’t miss the hungry gaze that she gives him as she turns to leave, and he can barely look Effie in the eye when they’re left alone.  
  
The older woman takes pity on him though, rising to clear the dishes with an amused grin. “I’ll deal with these. Why don’t you get ready, Peeta?”  
  
He’s never been so glad of an excuse to leave.  
  
In the second guest room, he dresses carefully, taking in his appearance in the full-length mirror before picking up the midnight blue silk mask that matches his suit. He puts it on, surprised at how well it disguises his face despite only covering half of it.   
  
He grins. _This might just work_.  
  
The sound of the intercom catches his attention, and he realizes that Effie’s date and the driver must be here. Quickly, he grabs the flower – a blue iris – that Effie had instructed him to attach to his lapel. On his way out, he stops to knock on the door of their bedroom.  
  
“You can’t come in, Peeta, it’s a surprise,” he hears Effie shout.  
  
“I guess I’ll see you both there, then,” he calls through the door.  
  
“See you there,” Katniss calls. He tries to subdue the feeling of uneasiness that bubbles within his chest.  
  
*  
  
“I don’t even know what she’s wearing,” he mutters, almost to himself. “How am I supposed to find her?”  
  
His companion – Ennius he had said as they shook hands – smiles as he turns to him. “Effie does this every year. She doesn’t even tell me what color she’ll be wearing. This year it’s easier because she chose my costume for me, but previously, she simply gave me a flower to wear and told me that she would find me when she found the flower.”  
  
Peeta frowns. “But that could take most of the night. What if she doesn’t find you until the very end? You could waste hours _not_ being in each other’s company.”  
  
Ennius nods. “We have indeed done that. But,” he says with a smile that makes Peeta think he’s lost in some fond memory, “Anticipation makes the reunion that little bit sweeter, don’t you think?”  
  
Peeta’s not so sure about that.  
  
*  
  
He sips his wine slowly as he surveys the room carefully. Already he can make out at least a dozen women who have the same height and build as Katniss from afar. He has no idea where to even begin.  
  
He pans from left to right once more, becoming aware of the approaching figure moments before she stops at his side.  
  
“Good evening.”  
  
Her long blond hair waterfalls over her shoulders, and even with the mask, he can tell that she must have striking features.   
  
“Hello,” he greets her with a welcoming smile.  
  
“Isn’t this delightful?” she says as she looks around.   
  
He nods. “Yes, yes it is.”  
  
“It’s a shame they ration the food though.”  
  
“Do they?”  
  
His companion rolls her eyes. “Apparently excess goes against the spirit of the occasion. There’s enough food and drink for people to feel satisfied, but no more.” She leans in and lowers her voice as she continues. “If you ask me, things were better under Snow.”  
  
He knows the moment that she realizes that she’s made a mistake, that she’s not talking to a fellow Snow sympathizer, because she recoils, her eyes widening in fright.  
  
Spinning on his heel, Peeta walks away without saying another word, not stopping until he is on the other side of the ballroom. Taking a deep breath, he looks around again to see if he can spot Katniss, wishing not for the first time that he had at least taken a peak at her costume. _At least knowing the color would have narrowed it down a little_.  
  
But he didn’t, and when a woman of the same height and hair color approaches, it takes him longer than he’d like to admit in deciding whether or not it is her.  
  
“I saw you earlier,” she says without preamble. “Talking to Blondie?”   
  
He follows her gaze to the other end of the large hall and grimaces as he nods in recognition.   
  
“I know who she is, even with that mask,” she tells him. “And I saw you walk away, so I’m guessing you didn’t like what she had to say. I just wanted to make sure that she didn’t put you off.”  
  
“Put me off?”  
  
“From the cause. The charities. I feel like I should spend my entire night following her around and putting out the fires that she inevitably leaves. But her family still hold a lot of influence, and frankly, we need their money,” she finishes guiltily.  
  
“I understand. And no, she hasn’t put me off the cause.”  
  
She smiles in relief and holds out her hand. “Care to dance?”  
  
He hesitates, looking between the outstretched hand and her hopeful expression. “I’m sorry. I’m waiting for someone.”  
  
“That’s a shame,” she responds ruefully. Giving him a final appreciative glance, she turns to leave, and he can’t help but let his eyes follow her.  
  
“Are you waiting for her to return, or can I tempt you onto the dance floor?”  
  
He turns to take in the owner of the voice. Her white satin dress hangs from one shoulder in cascading layers down to the tops of her knees, tucking into a simple band at the waist to accentuate her figure. Forcing his gaze up, he observes the intricacy in the matching satin mask that covers all but her eyes, mouth and jawline. The elaborate feathers that protrude from one corner and into the air above bring a smile to his lips.  
  
“I suppose that I could spare one dance for you.”  
  
She bites her lip as she reaches for his hand. “I’d better make it worth your while, then.”  
  
He lets her lead him to the center of the room, taking hold of her waist the moment that she turns to face him.  
  
“Are you having a nice time?” she asks politely as they start to sway to the slow rhythm of the music.  
  
The corners of his mouth tug upward. “I am now.”  
  
She averts her gaze as her own lips curl, and he thinks that she’s even more beautiful than a moment ago.  
  
They dance in silence after that, their bodies edging ever closer until he’s resisting the urge to press his groin into her.  
  
“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” she whispers in his ear.  
  
*  
  
They find a room at the end of a corridor that leads to the gardens, dark and empty and unlocked. Moonlight streams through the large, uncovered windows, and once his eyes have adjusted he makes out the shapes of a couch and several armchairs.  
  
So has she, apparently, as she leads him to the nearest one. “Sit.”  
  
“Are you always this bossy?” he mutters, despite submitting to her demand.  
  
“Only when I know what I want. Also,” she continues as she climbs onto his lap, “I’ve heard that some men prefer dominant women.”  
  
“And what makes you think I’m one of them?”  
  
She grinds down on him, chuckling softly when he hisses in response. “Aren’t you?”  
  
“So, what it is that you want?” he breathes, recalling her first answer to his original question.  
  
“You.” Her eyes don’t leave his as she leans in, mouths so close that they can feel each other exhale. She doesn’t make that final move though, and in the next moment he groans before reaching forward to close the gap. Her lips are soft and moist from her lipstick, and when she moans, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss as best as he can without their masks getting in the way. He captures her bottom lip between his, tugging gently before opening again and letting his tongue dive into her mouth. This seems to spur her on, and she starts to gyrate on his lap, creating a delicious friction against his erection.  
  
He groans when she pulls away abruptly. “What are you –”  
  
She brings a finger to his lips. “We’re not supposed to be in here.” Her hand trails slowly down his neck, then his chest, coming to rest over his crotch. “Can I count on you to be quiet?”  
  
He can only nod, not trusting himself to speak. She gets to her feet and unzips him, her eyes silently asking him for permission, and he nods once more in consent. He sucks in a breath when she pulls out his cock, and she grins and brings a finger to her own lips this time. “Shush.”  
  
And then she drops to her knees and takes him into her mouth in one fluid movement, and he can’t breathe, never mind make a sound. He can’t help himself as he buries his fingers in her long, flowing hair, urging her on. Not that she needs it, pumping him with her mouth for a few minutes before using her tongue to lick from tip to base and back again.  
  
He lets her continue for a few minutes before tugging at her. “Get up here,” he says in a voice so very low, and not just from the need to keep quiet.  
  
She comes willingly, hitching her dress above her knees as she straddles him. He arches his hips, reveling in her gasp as his still exposed cock rubs against her panties. She shifts her weight, and he knows when it’s perfect for her, because the next thrust of his hips results in her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He keeps going, encouraged by the sight and from the miniscule sounds emanating from her throat. He hadn’t been planning on it, but he thinks that he might be able to make her climax just from this, and when she reaches between them to shuffle her underwear to one side, he knows that she’s close. The exposure of her bare skin is all it takes, and on the next push, he angles the tip into the folds of her labia. Her eyes widen, and he quickly presses a hand onto her back and pulls her to him, capturing her moan inside his own mouth.   
  
He’s still concentrating on her ragged breaths when she slides her fingers around his cock and takes him into her.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers.  
  
She huffs in laughter. “Isn’t that what you were expecting?”  
  
“I didn’t expect it to feel so good,” he says honestly. She bucks her hips, and they both moan in unison. But she freezes when voices filter through from the hallway, and they both turn their heads towards the silhouettes that lurk in the gap beneath door. His head snaps back when she starts to move with renewed vigor.   
  
His eyes find hers, and he knows that she’s enjoying the idea of someone walking in on them doing _this_.   
  
Still, he doesn’t risk moving until the voices fade, and when they do, he grips the small of her back tightly and stands, her legs quickly wrapping around him for support. His cock slips out as he tries to walk them to the larger couch, and she groans in frustration. “Shush,” he says in false reprimand.  
  
He lays her down, quickly covers her body with his, and together they maneuver so he can push into her again. Her knees come up to her shoulders as he pounds into her with a relentless rhythm. She arches beneath him, and he wraps his arms around her back, trying to get impossibly deeper. When she muffles a cry into his shoulder, it’s too much for him and he groans loudly, spending himself inside her.  
  
They both laugh nervously as they come down from their high, and he helps to get her into a sitting position, smoothing down her dress before tucking himself in and leaning back into the seat beside her. Their bodies are close, touching in places, but when she doesn’t reach for him, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the sounds of their breathing.  
  
Her quiet voice entices him to lift his eyelids and look across at her. “Can I tempt you to stay longer?”  
  
He smiles. “I should get back. Got a long day tomorrow.”  
  
She nods, though not in disappointment. “Will you be sleeping alone?” she asks with a timidity that surprises him, given what they’ve just done together.  
  
“I hope not,” he replies with a raised brow, meaning it sincerely.  
  
“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you,” his companion says quietly. She reaches for him, deftly removing the blue iris from his lapel. “May I?”   
  
He nods, noticing for the first time that she’s wearing a flower of her own. He watches as she lifts the white narcissus from the strap of her dress and replaces it with his flower, before pinning the miniature daffodil to him.   
  
He looks into those gray eyes as he speaks softly. “I’m the lucky one.”  
  
Taking her hand into his for one final time, he brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss across her knuckles without breaking their gaze. “Thank you.”  
  
She smiles like she had done when they had done on the dance floor. “Thank _you_.”  
  
It’s hard not to turn around at least once when he walks away, but somehow he manages it. As he reenters the ballroom, he spots Plutarch talking to another man not far away, his thin leather mask doing little to disguise him.  
  
“Mr. Heavensbee? Could I have a quick word?”  
  
“Of course,” is the sure response, even if his body adopts a somewhat confused stance.  
  
Once alone, he whispers into the older man’s ear. “It’s Peeta.”  
  
He watches as Plutarch’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. Is Katniss here?”  
  
Peeta nods, and he can practically see the cogs whirring in that Gamemaker brain of his. “We’re here for _us_ , Plutarch, nobody else. We’re not going to reveal ourselves to the media.”  
  
To his credit, there is only a slight flicker of disappointment before he nods in understanding. “Of course, of course.”  
  
“I just wanted to thank you,” Peeta says quietly. “For keeping us out of the limelight.”  
  
Plutarch smiles softly. “It was the least I could do. After everything.”  
  
He won’t argue with that. It took a long time, but he doesn’t hold any resentment anymore towards the people that were willing to place the two of them at the center of a war. So instead, Peeta shakes his hand and retreats back into the hallway. Slowly, he makes his way to the main entrance, pleased to hear the clock chime as he descends the staircase. Ennius is already waiting for him. They ride back to Effie’s in silence after Peeta confirms that he had a good time, the other man just as lost in his own thoughts as he is with his.  
  
He says goodnight with a smile when Ennius moves towards Effie’s bedroom, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath before making his way to one of the guest rooms. Once inside, he undresses quickly and quietly, draping the suit across the small chair in the corner. He looks at the mask one last time, running his fingertips over the smooth silk before letting it drop onto the pile of clothing.  
  
Carefully, he places his white narcissus next to the blue iris that rests on the little side table, before climbing into the bed and pressing his body tightly against that of the woman he loves.

 


End file.
